Education
by Hollywithaneye
Summary: Zevran decides to help Alistair with a problem. Mild Zev/Ali. A short drabble for the swooping is bad challenge #2


_For the swooping_is_bad LJ community's Weekly Challenge. [1] Alistair and Zevran have a discussion about the Grey Warden (either male or female) [3] __Alistair can't hold his booze_

"So, how go things with your wooing of our Grey Warden?"

Alistair glanced across the snapping fire at Zevran where he lounged along the ground, his back propped against a convenient log and his polishing cloths in hand.

"What wooing?" he muttered, and the bitterness crept into his voice before he could reign it back.

"Oh my. This does not sound good." Zevran sat up at attention, rummaging in his nearby pack and withdrawing a bottle of red wine before beckoning Alistair over to his side of the fire. "Come my friend, and tell Uncle Zevran all about it."

Alistair moved around the fire to plop down beside Zevran, stretching his legs out alongside the elf's to warm his feet near the fire. "It's not that it's bad. It's…"

The elf took a pull from the bottle of wine and passed it to Alistair, waiting for the Warden to continue. Alistair tipped the bottle back, wincing as the unfamiliar burn of alcohol seared his stomach.

"Do you remember your first kiss, Zevran?" he said finally.

"Sadly no, my Chantry friend. I grew up in a whorehouse, and we rugrats were constantly imitating the adults we saw. Our innocence was lost quickly. Why, this one time when I was no more than twelve my mother's best friend –" The elf cut off at Alistair's strangled sound. "Yes, well…that is neither here nor there though. I believe we were intending to talk about you?"

"Yes, well you see…it's just that I've never…"

Zevran chuckled. "We all know of your innocent state, Alistair. Trust me when I say that if the time comes you will know what to do. And if our Warden is half the woman I think she is, she'll have plenty of patience with you. Maker knows she already does."

Alistair's cheeks turned a red so vivid it could be seen even in the dim firelight. "No, it's not that. Although – er, thank you for the encouragement."

"Well, if it's not a matter of the delicate intricacies involved with bedding a woman, what seems to be the problem Alistair?"

Alistair tipped the wine back again, searching for the courage he'd heard was somewhere at the bottom. He mumbled something around the mouth of the bottle and pointedly avoided Zevran's eyes.

"Come my friend, this coyness is not like you. Where is the foolhardy brave Warden we all know? Has Morrigan shifted a kitten into his likeness?"

"I've never kissed anyone!" Alistair blurted out before glaring accusingly at the bottle in his hand, which was obviously to blame for his sudden lack of internal censorship. Suddenly this whole conversation was hurtling straight past awkward to Bad Idea.

"Hmmm." The elf made a thoughtful sound. "And now you have worked yourself into such a lather of nervousness that you cannot seem to get over this perceived lack of experience on your part." Zevran watched Alistair speculatively as the Warden nodded miserably, slouching somewhat as the wine besieged him.

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance? In the spirit of education, of course." Zevran's husky undertone drew Alistair's attention and he was startled to feel Zevran's breath across his cheek. Maker damn all rogues - when had Zevran gotten so close? Alistair eyed the bottle blearily. It was obviously magical wine, imbued with the powers of teleportation.

"How so?" he whispered, looking back up at the elf, feeling like a bird trapped in the gaze of a viper.

"Perhaps a little…practical application." The elf moved even closer, hovering over Alistair with hooded eyes.

Alistair opened his mouth to protest and Zevran swept in like a storm, pressing his lips to Alistair's. Hands reached up, dragging over the stubble of Alistair's cheek to twist in his hair. The elf's tongue fluttered along Alistair's lips like a moth beating against a windowpane. Alistair's mouth went slack with shock and Zevran took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue riding in on a wave of wine-sweetened breath to dance across the roof of Alistair's mouth.

Just as abruptly as he was invaded the elf relented, withdrawing to switch tactics. Zevran dragged his teeth along Alistair's lower lip, drawing the full curve into his own mouth and suckling gently, nipping. Alistair raised his hands, to – what? To push? To pull? He had no idea, and just as his wine-addled brain was close to figuring it out the elf broke away, leaving Alistair floundering in his wake.

"There, my friend." Zevran pulled back and grinned coyly. "Now you have it over with, and perhaps I have shown you a few things. I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy that. Perhaps, if you ever tire of your ladylove…"

Alistair nodded absently, not trusting himself to speak, and levered himself from the log to totter towards his own tent.

"Good night, my Prince." Zevran blew a kiss towards Alistair, and laughed as a blush stained the Warden's cheeks. "Sweet dreams."


End file.
